Lost in the House of Lies
by Topher3.0
Summary: In the year 2019, imprint Claire Saunders has gone insane with guilt and fear. Knowing that she does not belong in someone else’s body, Claire’s mind has subconsciously reverted back to acting like ‘Whiskey’, her former ‘Doll-self‘.


**_This was the first Dollhouse fic I've ever written. Was my second fic, overall. I am a huge Amy Acker fan, and love all of her characters. Wrote this piece way back, when it announced that Amy Acker would not be in most of Dollhouse Season Two, right after 'Vows' aired. Enjoy! :)_**

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Her pale hand slid over the chair's controls. This thing had taken away many lives, yet given just as many. Whiskey's face was blank, and had an unhealthy looking color. She wore a white gown that her eyes had spotted not too long ago. It had been laying all alone next to one of the old sleeping pods.

Whiskey tilted her head at the thought of 'alone'. Was she herself alone? Was that the reason she had been drawn to the garment? Her head was always full of questions, but she never tried to find answers. Why was that? Wasn't there a time when she had craved knowledge? Had that been her own desire, or had it simply been implanted into her brain?

The programming room was silent, as was the rest of the Los Angeles Dollhouse. Whiskey was the only remaining being in this underground 'paradise'. She spent most of her time cleaning, even though the Dollhouse was picture perfect. When Whiskey wasn't cleaning, she would be trying to sleep.

Sleep; That was what she needed now. Whiskey carried herself over to the front side of the imprinting chair. She knew that she had sat there many times before, even though her memory could not recall so. Her perfectly straight hair fell backwards as the back of her dress met the chair's cushions.

She half-expected to be tilted back, and have a blue light surround her skull. Whiskey took a few moments before shutting her eyes. Memories flooded onto the inside of her eyelids. The past few years seemed unimaginable.

*****

"You'll go mad!" Caroline hissed. She had been trying to convince the doctor, Claire Saunders, to come above ground with her and the group. Today was the day that they would head off for 'Safe Haven'. Claire looked away from Caroline. Her eyes looked down at the floor.

"I've left the Dollhouse before," Claire explained, "And it wasn't such a swell place up there." Her voice sounded stressed.

Claire's face shot up with sarcasm. "I'm sure it's all better, now that the apocalypse is among us!" Caroline ran her hands through her dirty hair.

"Don't do that…" Claire had been expecting a different reply.

"I'm sorry…" She said in almost a whisper. "This is my home. It always has been." Claire sat at her desk once more. Caroline placed her palms on the wood surface. It was still odd, seeing Claire without her scars.

"You really think staying down here is better?!" Their eyes met for the first time in this conversation.

"It always has been…" Claire repeated herself. The two didn't move for minutes.

"I guess this goodbye…" Caroline narrated.

"Looks that way." Claire got to her feet, and met Caroline. The two embraced each other. Caroline squinted her eyes shut, and Claire felt tears build up in her own.

Both of them walked out of Claire's office, and joined the huge group of people. Most of them had been Actives, but Adelle had had Topher restore their original personalities.

Claire looked over at Topher and Adelle. She had her arm around Topher, and he was looking confused. Topher was the man who had crafted the equipment needed too end the world. The human race had been turned into a bunch of blood thirsty animals.

Adelle turned her head once she spotted Caroline. The two of them had never gotten along very well. Claire looked around at all of their faces, this may be the last time she would see any of them again.

"Okay, everyone!" Paul Ballard hollered out. "I'll give you a few minutes to take a deep breath!" The former Doll, that had been called Victor, was leaning against a wall. He had been depressed since Priya Tsetsang went up about ground a month ago. Priya had also been a Doll, Sierra. She and Victor had been attracted to each other in a way no one could describe.

"I have to help Paul," Caroline told Claire. She nodded, and left her side. Paul and Caroline led the way to the elevator shaft, and exchanged a few words.

"One at a time!" Caroline ordered, and helped a woman through the doors. They would take the ladder up into Adelle's old office. Claire wasn't sure where to from that point.

Everyone moved around Claire, and waited for their turn to climb out of this place. Time seemed to fly right by as well. Paul followed a middle aged man up the shaft. Adelle tried to convince Topher to make his way up the ladder next, but his head turned to look at Claire.

He broke free from Adelle, and ran to Claire. Topher stopped in front of the physician, and looked into her tear-filled eyes. A single drop ran down her cheek, and then she started to let out all of her emotions.

Claire went down to her knees, and covered her face. Topher dropped just as quickly, and wrapped his arms around her. She dug her face into his shoulder, and cried out.

"You're human…" Topher repeated the simple words he had told her to long ago. Claire let out a sound that could have been a cry, or laugh.

"Don't f-flatter yourself!" She played along. In the background, Adelle covered her mouth, holding back tears of her own. Caroline watched the two of them, and decided to follow Paul, before she herself burst into a crying fit.

Adelle gave them a minute before she walked over, and put her hand on Topher's shoulder. He took his arms back, and stood from their spot. Clair looked up at them both. Adelle her a gloomy smile, saying goodbye.

Claire covered her face once more, and the next thing she remembered was the silence.

*****

The wedge laid in her hands. Claire's fingers rapidly tapped the piece of technology. Within the device was her true self. Was this considered suicide? Could it also be considered giving back a life?

Claire hovered over the Imprinting Chair. She was tired of feeling this awful guilt. This wasn't her body; She didn't belong here. Claire cried out, her eyes were bloodshot.

"Where do I belong?!" She questioned herself.

Claire shoved the wedge into the chair's opening. She watched the small screen light up, and started to type in the correct codes and what not. A tear finally fell off of her numb face, and hit onto the screen. Claire brushed it off.

The chair was set on auto drive, and would be ready to do the procedure the moment Claire took her seat. She stood there, trying to answer one final question: Was this selfish of her? What would this poor girl think when she awoke?

Claire shook her head as fast as she could, and ripped the wedge out. Her arm jerked to the side, and sent the imprint flying. It slammed into the wall, shattering into three pieces. Was this murder?

This had been the third, and last time she would attempt to restore her original personality. Claire felt somewhat okay. She had just saved someone from feeling the same gloom she was feeling, but at the same time had stopped them from feeling anything ever again.

*****

Claire sat in the sleeping pod. Topher had spent most of his time in this same spot, but he wasn't even near this single pod anymore. Her back leaned against one of the skinnier walls. Fidgety hands clung to Claire's tangled hair.

Images of people and words came up one by one in her head. The time Alpha broke into the Dollhouse. The time she had placed rats in Topher's cabinets. The last time she had seen Boyd…

"He's coming…" Claire whispered to herself. "I-I have to wait for him…"

A cracking sound came from the center of the 'House. Claire's head snapped up, and her eyes looked around. Her hands grabbed onto the sides of her pod, and lifted herself out.

"He's back!" She cried to herself.

Claire climbed over all of Topher's old objects that surrounded the sleeping pod. She was sure that she had just knocked over everyone of his small gadgets. They were like dominos.

Her feet ran as swiftly as they could. Claire's arms swung back and forth as she made her way to the sound's source. Tears were still in the corners of her eyes.

Lights flashed into the hallway. Claire came to a stop, and lifted her palm to block the brightness. A man screamed. Claire winced at the awful noise. She felt a body land on her, leaping at her.

They both it the wooden floor. Claire faced the ceiling, and saw two more mad men dropping in. She fought the devil on top of her. His knees dug into her ribs. Claire shrieked, punching him in his nose as hard as she could.

He fell off, and Claire scrambled to get away. It was as if she had been storing up her energy for a time like this. Claire rested her hand on her forehead, and tried to think of what to do. Hadn't she been planning for a event like this? Her thoughts had been so mixed lately, it was hard to keep track of everything.

Her pupils expanded as Claire started to remember. The switch; She needed to get to the switch. Claire hurried to the stairs, leading to Topher's office and the Imprinting Room. She kept going over the directions, making sure that it wouldn't slip her mind.

Claire heard more of the killers reaching the ground. There was also another scream, a pissed off scream. Claire figured it was probably the one she had taken on.

She arrived to the box on the wall. Claire unlatched the small door, and revealed a number of dials and knobs. Which one was the correct one?! She rubbed her fingers over all of them, trying to pick up lost knowledge.

Her pointer finger came to a switch in the middle. This was it, she just knew it somehow. Claire pushed the trinket up, and swung around to look over the balcony. A gas leaked from the walls.

Claire and the others had set this up at some point; She couldn't quite remember how long ago it had been. Incase any unwanted visitors came along, someone would release the gas. It would kill the victims within thirty seconds, at most. Claire had made sure that everyone that lived in the Dollhouse's walls received the antidote. The only aftermath she would be facing is being knocked out for a few hours.

Claire watched the corrupted beings fall like flies. She held onto the railing, but started to feel queasy. Her legs motioned backwards, until she reached the wall. Claire slid down to her bottom, and was out like a light.

*****

The stranger's face reflected back at her. Claire stood in front of one of the many mirrors. She bathed in the showers every few days, and then would stare at herself in the glass. Claire couldn't even recall her name at the moment. She had no purpose to use it, did she?

Her hand rose, holding a silver knife. Claire had picked it off of one of the men that now slept at the bottom of the elevator shaft. That was the second time she had had to drop a group of intruders down the passage.

Claire forced the blade to her right cheek, and gently slid the sharp instrument across. She didn't make any sounds, even though there was pain. Was it bad to want feelings? Claire hadn't felt any emotion in days, or at least it didn't feel like she had.

One tear rolled down the same cheek. Claire swung the knife away, and continued to glare at herself. Blood started to flow out of the wound, and beads of red dripped down to meet her chin.

"They bring out my eyes…" She uttered slowly.

The words popped out of nowhere. They seemed so familiar. Claire lifted her fingers to the blood, and touched it. The liquid was hot, it warmed her stone cold skin. A droplet of blood fell off of her chin, silently hitting the floor.

*****

Whiskey's head fell down the pole. She had taken her sitting spot, as she had just taken out another group of intruders. This time it had been different, she had saved more than just herself.

She pulled herself to her feet, trying to spot the room from spinning. The Dollhouse was a mess. it had been a rough day; An unusual day. Flashes of killing, and new faces surfed through her mind.

A little over a dozen bodies laid in the center room. It was time to introduce them to the others, down the shaft. Whiskey walked by the Imprinting Room, a man was propped up against the wall. He was shot. She tilted her head at his motionless carcass.

"Not everyone can find Haven…"

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**_Feel free to review; I'd love to hear your thoughts. The ending is not accurate with the show, as Whiskey is presumed deceased after Epitaph One. But that is what makes this fanfiction. ^.^ Thank you for reading! _**


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